


Prompt: Scum and Villainy

by Mouse_Writes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Original Characters - Freeform, prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13554729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse_Writes/pseuds/Mouse_Writes
Summary: Fleeing the war in their native Tethindre, Lena and her brother Joel end up in taking refuge in Kelaazate - a country known for their distrust of mages. Worry mounts as their money runs out and they are forced to find work. Joel gets on with Rooper to move cargo at the docks while Lena stays in the city, serving as a healer in their run-down apartment-turned-clinic. As a healer, Lena runs the risk of being turned over to the Drachta, a branch of the Kelazzate military who hunt her kind, the tagir. The siblings are able to live in the city for a month before someone confronts Lena about her abilities. Reese Lacasse is a well-known name among the lower classes, and not someone you want to come knocking on your door. When Lena finds herself alone with him outside their clinic, she begins to wonder if the city is as safe as she'd started to believe.Written for the "Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy" from over on Deviantart.





	1. Chapter 1

“What are you doing here?” As soon as the words left Lena’s mouth, she wanted to snatch them back. The figure she’d seen skulking around the clinic straightened, turning to face her directly. She should’ve known better than to do anything other than get inside, somewhere safe, in that part of town. Walking alone so late at night, in so shady an area, she was bound to attract some attention. But as the figure slinked toward her, she felt a cold chill slip up her spine.

She strained to make out any detail of the person in the darkness but with only the weakly flickering streetlight above her providing only a bright enough glow to obscure her vision, making anything out visually was impossible. But she wasn’t completely blind. Lena could hear his heartbeat, calm and steady, thumping within his ribcage as he clung to the shadows. Whoever this was, he had to have been expecting her. Why else would he have been hanging outside the clinic?

“What’s the matter,” he began, his voice little more than a rasp, “I thought you offered help to any and all?”

“I’m a healer, and you don’t need healing.” Although, if he threatened her, she would defend herself. Then he would need a healer.

“Hm...” He drew out the sound, sounding as if he was grinning. “I don’t think that’s quite true. But I don’t think even you could heal what’s really broken inside me, little _tagir_.” Still that same calm heartbeat as he made Lena’s race.

“What do you want?” Her voice was quiet. Afraid.

“I only wanted to say hello.” His voice snaked around Lena, like a cat stalking its prey. He kept to the shadows, close enough only for her to see his lower legs - dark trousers, darker boots, making only the softest thump with each step.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” He asked the question as if pondering whether he actually was. Then, after a second, he stepped forward, leaning into the lamplight so Lena could finally see his face. Her heart raced even faster.

Reese Lacasse was notorious down in the Wharf, willing to do nearly any job that needed doing. Lena had never cared to ask what kinds of jobs he deemed unworthy of his time, or even what all he would do for the coin. Now that he was staring her in the face, she suddenly wished she had. The way his lip curled sent the fine hairs on her neck standing on end. Knowing his line of work, he was one of the last people she wanted to be alone with on an empty street. No, she wouldn’t have wanted to sit with him in a crowded tavern.

Despite her rising panic, she kept her eyes locked with his, the muscle in her jaw working. “If you don’t want anything from me, I’ll be leaving.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, little _tagir_. I only wanted to let you know,” he purred, dark eyes glittering, “that I know who you are.”

“You would turn me in?” Lena’s mouth felt dry, and like her stomach had taken up residence in the bottoms of her shoes.

“Now, whyever would I do that? What if I get hurt one day? Who else could I go to for a patch-up than someone the Drachta hunt just as fervently?” Again, he grinned. Lena didn’t know whether to punch him or run away. But she couldn’t do anything but stand there, frozen, her chest tightening. “You should hurry on inside. These streets aren’t safe at night.”

Something knocked behind Lena and she whipped around, blood crashing in her ears. A door had opened down the way. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that Reese had vanished.

“Lena?”

The sound of her brother’s voice nearly made her knees give out. Turning back, she saw him approaching, dark brows drawn with concern. Quickly, Lena hurried to him, turned him around, then hooked her arm through his and shushed him until they were back inside the clinic. Only when she’d locked the door did she finally give a shuddering breath of relief.

“What happened?” Leave it to Joel to skip right to the point.

Lena tried to still her trembling hands, couldn’t, and conceded to shoving them deep in her pockets. “I saw someone sneaking around the clinic. It was Reese Lacasse. And he knows I’m _tagir_.”

Silence. Then, “does he know your name?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. He knows I’m a healer but he didn’t call me by name.”

“Someone like Lacasse won’t go talking to the Drachta to turn you in,” he said, as if half-trying to convince himself. More silence, for longer this time. “Do you think we should leave?”

Lena looked up at her older brother, his face too shrouded in shadows to really make out his expression. It killed her a little bit inside every time he worried she might be taken. “We can’t. Even if I thought we should, we couldn’t. The last of the money is gone. This is the first time you’ve been able to find work in months and you only just got on with Rooper.” Lena pressed a hand to her forehead, falling back into the sagging chair against the wall. Her eyes burned with exhaustion, her entire body ached. She didn’t want to tell him the rest. She knew he had to know. “He said… He said he wouldn’t turn me in. That the Drachta hunted him just as much as they hunted _tagir_.”

“He could be lying. Or he’s not and wants you to run.” 

Lena looked back to him as he shoved a hand through his hair. It needed to be cut. He hated when it fell in front of his eyes. Sitting down in the chair opposite her, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, giving her a familiar look. She hated that look. Like he was sad and scared and as if his very soul was drained. All he said was “you should go get some rest. You worked too hard today.”

“You need rest too.”

“I’ll get some sleep shortly.”

Lena knew he was lying.

_______  
“Did you hear?” If nothing else, Lena was grateful for Tova’s incessant chatter. Better than to be left with only her own thoughts, swirling themselves into a dark, oppressing cloud. “King Melesius’s son Henrik finally married that blasted Threisen girl. Veera of course goes on and on about how this is a sure sign the wars will come to an end. I keep tell- Argh!” She suddenly yanked back her arm, the burns Lena had been tending to. But instead of fresh pink skin, the burns just looked angry, though thankfully no worse than before.

“I’m so sorry, Tova,” she mumbled, rubbing an ache in her shoulder. After making sure she hadn’t been injured further, Tova let Lena see to her arm and continued on chattering away. When she’d finished, she handed over two bronze _iljas_ , closing Lena’s fist around them when the young mage tried to refuse, assuring her that “for all that you do, you probably should charge” and then teetered on out the door.

With a smile, Lena pocketed the small coins. Few that she saw could offer any form of payment, but some would share food, a few would offer a couple coins. It had been a hard week, meals stretched thin waiting for Rooper to pay Joel. The night before had been the first time she’d been able to go to sleep without a gnawing hunger in her belly. She’d even slept kind of well. Even that wouldn’t get rid of the dark bags beneath her eyes or how gaunt she looked.

After Tova, the clinic was empty. The sun was even still up, hovering just high enough for it to be safe enough to walk alone in the Wharf. Giving the clinic a quick clean, bundling up the sheets and other linens to be washed later, Lena locked up and made her way down to the bazaar. They were still pitifully short on money, but Joel had sent word that Rooper wanted him to stay late and help out with some project which meant she had to get their food for the week.

After about an hour of tired haggling, Lena finally made her way back to the clinic. The sun had given up its place in the sky to the moon, but there was still just enough light to get back without hurrying. Inside, she leaned against the door and slid the lock home, resting her eyes for a moment. It was dark and quiet inside the clinic, but cooler than it had been outside. Putting their few groceries away, Lena dropped into the chair that was more of a bed to her at that point and thought about what Tova had said. If the King’s son had married the young princess of Threisen, there was a chance that the wars might finally come to an end. It was a small chance, but the flutter of hope still lifted some of the weight from Lena’s shoulders.

After the destruction of their hometown in Tethindre, she and Joel had been forced to flee, and had only been able to go north. It wasn’t until someone called her a witch that they even realized they’d left Tethindre behind. Kelaazate was far less forgiving of _tagir_ than anywhere else, but the war kept chasing them further and further north. But maybe if –

A crash in the back of the clinic jerked Lena wide-awake, forcing the thoughts from her mind and letting fear creep in. Had someone broken in? Was it the Drachta? She held her hands shoulder width apart in front of her, one hand slightly closer to her chest, her fingers a bit splayed. Should they have left when Lacasse confronted her? It had been nearly two weeks since then though…

Focusing, Lena only found herself confused. Whoever was in the clinic with her sounded injured – quick, heavy breathing and a rapid pulse. When they appeared in the darkened doorway, Lena realized just how serious the situation was.

There was blood everywhere, and they looked ready to keel over, leaning so heavily against the doorway it was a wonder the blood on their hands didn’t break their grip. No, they only gripped the frame with one hand, the other was clutching their leg. Even in the darkness, she could see the defensive wounds on their hands, the blood dripping from seemingly everywhere. And she could hear more – their breathing was quick and shallow, and wet. If they were bleeding internally…

“Who are you?” Her voice sounded high, too loud in the silent clinic.

Whatever Lena had been expecting, it wasn’t what she got. Incredibly, they laughed. It was a horrible sound. Wet with blood, a harsh bark of surprise. They almost sounded amused. “I’m offended - you have - to ask.” His words came haltingly, punctuated with gasps for air.

Then, they pitched forward, crashing to the floor in a heap. Without quite realizing what she was doing, Lena went to his side – he’d sounded male anyway. Pushing him onto his back left her hands sticky with blood and she fumbled with his shirt. Without buttons to simply undo the front, she had to push it up around his middle, putting her palms against his stomach.

He had been beaten - badly. His right collarbone had been broken, as well as a bone or two in his left wrist. The cuts and bruises on his hands were so extensive it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began. Dozens of slashes marked his forearms and the palms of his hands. There were a couple stab wounds as well - one on his arm, two worryingly close to vital organs, and another just beneath his shoulder blade. But her biggest concern was the gushing stab wound in his thigh. It felt as if they blade had nicked the bone and the artery. He was running out of time.

Standing, Lena went and grabbed some supplies. Returning to his side, she knelt and laid everything out, taking a second to calm herself and produce a small shimmering ball of light in her hand – her skill lay almost entirely in healing, but producing light was an invaluable trick. Setting the light to hover at her side, she took a look at who she was dealing with. Had she been standing, Lena likely would have fallen over in shock. Dark hair matted against his head, a shallow cut she hadn’t noticed before running from one shoulder to beneath the opposite arm, and dark blood covering nearly every inch of his body couldn’t keep her from recognizing him immediately.

Lena knelt, petrified, as Reese Lacasse bled out in front of her.


	2. Prompt: Dead Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian Cardona, a guard in the city watch, has a case which forces him to seek out the only person he knows might be able to help him - a _tagir_ healer he endangered by visiting at all.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> _Written for the "Dead Letter" Prompt over on DeviantArt._  
> 

Julian knew the streets of Kohtjaali almost as well as he knew the layout of his own apartment. More importantly, he knew how to traverse the streets without banging his shins into things - that is, how to hide in plain sight, who and where to avoid if he needed. And this was one such circumstance. The business he needed to see done would take him where his uniform, the one he was so proud to wear, would’ve either put a target on his back or kept his contact from so much as letting him through the door. So instead, Julian wore something nondescript - dark fabric and worn leather, a hood drawn low over his face. For once, he was grateful for the dreary weather, the rain coming down steadily enough that it not only justified his hurry, but nobody wanted to stand in the rain and pay him any mind. If they did, and if they recognized him, they might wonder why a city guard was looking so shady and hanging out in an even shadier part of the city.

Nobody made any move to stop him though as he hurried through the eastern section of Kohtjaali, past the high-brow businesses, before the tanneries and factories. This was the place for less-than-reputable businesses and dingy diners, cramped coffeehouses and darkened shops where everybody knew your name and business. It was also where pickpockets and worse lurked after dark, hunting loners trying to make it back home.

Turning down a side street, Julian found the way even emptier than all the others. He supposed he wasn’t surprised - dawn was still a ways away, and the Warren was likely crawling with a handful of thugs eager to line their pockets. None with an ounce of sense would still willingly be in the open. Still, he felt marginally more at ease than he’d have been if his destination were any closer to the Wharf. Granted, the Wharf wasn’t quite far enough away to make Julian feel at all comfortable. To his relief though, he’d made it to the crooked street he needed, just a few buildings down from his destination - a leaning building sandwiched between two larger storefronts, shades in all the windows and nothing to say what sort of business it even was.

Julian approached the door, hesitated, and knocked.There was no response. He knocked again, then tried the knob and found it locked. Frowning, he went around to the back and found the correct door - four down from the end. The one he sought, he found marked with bloody handprints, already dry. After knocking, he tried the handle and found it unlocked, swinging open easily. Julian made his way inside the building, following the trail of blood easily despite the low light. Wishing for all the world he’d have brought any sort of weapon more comforting than a small ddagger, he continued. Standing inside the next doorway, he found himself looking in on a small room with a comparatively large pool of blood in the middle of the floor and surrounded by medical supplies, used and untouched. Past that, laying with her back to him in a cot, was the girl he’d come to see. He went to her quickly, worried the blood might be hers. Had someone attacked her? If that was the case…

He took hold of her shoulder firmly and was surprised by the flush of relief to find her simply asleep - covered in blood, but alive. Her face, though, seemed to be twisted with fear. She was having a nightmare, he guessed. “Miss,” he said, his voice deafening in the silent room. Julian gave her shoulder a gentle shake. He wondered, briefly, what she could’ve been dreaming about to make her whimper and muitter so much in her sleep. Sweat coated her brow and her hands twitched restlessly, eyes darting back and forth beneath closed lids. “Miss,” he repeated a bit more loudly.

Her eyes flew open and she sat upright so quickly he nearly fell over backward to keep their heads from cracking together. In the split second it took for him to realize that she recognized him despite her sleep-blurred eyes, her hands were in front of her and he felt something, some sort of force, grab hold of his heart. He gasped, hands going to his throat, trying to claw at whatever held his heart in a vice all the while trying to suck in a breath and being unable to do so. “Please,” he choked, “I’m not - Drachta.” His words were punctuated with strangled breaths.

“Where is the man that was here?” Her eyes were already clearing of her nightmare, but she didn’t lower her hands, only looking away from him once to look around the room.

“Nobody - was here!” Who had she helped, that she was so concerned about?

“What do you want from me?”

“I - I need - help.” Blackness started creeping at the edges of his vision. Then, though nothing obvious had changed, he felt the pressure in his chest vanish. He gulped breaths greedily, realized he’d been brought to his hands and knees. He looked up at the girl before him. She was young, younger than he expected, maybe in her mid-twenties. She was tall as well, her dark skin giving her away just as much as her accent that she was a foreigner, from Tethindre. Concerningly, she looked like she hadnt slept in a week, maybe hadn’t eaten for that long either.

“Who are you? Who sent you?” Her words were strained, though whether from exhaustion or her nightmare he couldn’t know.

“Julian Cardona. I’m with the city watch. I wouldn’t be here if I had anybody else to go to.” 

“What is it you think I can help you with?” Across from him, she sat down heavily on the cot. He wondered if she had exhausted herself with whoever had left so much blood all over the tiny clinic as he stood, making her flinch, but only put his hands up and took a step back to lean against the wall.

From the pocket inside his coat, Julian pulled out a letter, the envelope worn around the edges and his name written clearly across the front. He’d opened it carefully and read and reread the letter within dozens of times, brushing his thumb across it whenever he had a moment of rest. “I have a case… A girl came to me, a young woman, afraid that she was being stalked. Now she’s disappeared. I’ve heard about people with your...ability, mss, being able to track others by personal objects?” Would she even trust him? What if she thought this was just some ruse to use her powers in front of him, give him solid proof for the Drachta?

She sat quietly for a moment and then held out her hand, frowning at the letter he held. She took it when he offered, then sat back and crossed her legs. “How long have you known about me?”

“You’ve treated a couple of my informants,” Julian replied honestly. “There are a couple of us, in the guard, that know about you, Miss Valkeska.” She flinched and he hurried on, gesturing nervously. “None of us that know would seek you out. Whatever the Drachta think, you’re doing good in the city and we do not wish to see you stopped. I wouldn’t have even come here, as I said, if I had any other choice. But I’m afraid for this girl.”

Holding the letter in her pale hands, the young woman let out a tired sigh. “Do not distract me, whatever I say,” she warned, closing her eyes.

Everything was silent at first, the quiet broken only by their steady breathing. Then something changed - her breath came faster, her brows pinched together and she clutched the envelope so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. Then she started whimpering, muttering to herself. It was like when Julian had first found her, caught in the middle of a nightmare. But she wasn’t asleep now. Was this how she used this part of her power?

With a strangled cry, her eyes flew open and she dropped the letter, standing up so suddenly he started toward her, reaching out to steady her only for the girl to jerk away, holding her arms against her chest. Her eyes were wide as saucers and she was shaking, looking up at him with terror like he’d seen in people that had just been attacked. Julian couldn’t say why, but he felt dread creeping up around his heart. “Are - are you alright?” Gods, that sounded like such a stupid question.

She shook her head and just stood quietly for some time. Then, without a word, she turned and left the room. Julian made no move to follow her, only retrieved the letter and replaced it inside his pocket, remaining in the dark. From what he could hear, she was changing clothes and washing up. A moment later, she emerged, wearing boots and a dark knee-length coat. The dread from before now felt like a stone in his stomach. She didn’t look at him, just stared at the floor. “I’ll take you to her.” She sounded defeated.

“I was too late, Miss Valkeska?”

A nod. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cardona.” Then she left a note, neatly folded, on the counter before heading to the door.

“Julian is fine,” he said, following her out the clinic.

She paused, hand on the door handle. “Lena,” she said after a moment, glancing back at him, then opening the door and stepping into the early dawn.


	3. Prompt: Water of Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After reliving the last moments of a young woman's life through the residual memories in a letter left to Julian, Lena takes him to the location of the dead girl's body.  
>  Written for the "Water of Desperation" prompt on Deviantart_  
>  _  
> ___  
> 

The sun was was still inching its way above the edge of the tallest buildings in the city, throwing rays of warming light through the streets. Lena sat silently in the window booth across from Julian, her hands curled around a hot mug of tea. Between them sat an untouched plate of cones. From the booth, they watched more city guards retreiving a body from the canal across the street. Lena had led Julian to the body, had pointed it out to him, led on by the haunting vision she’d seen after Julian had given her the woman’s letter. He had then escorted her inside the little tea shop, asking her to wait for him while he went and brought back more of the city guard.

“Are you alright?” Julian asked the question suddenly, his voice startling Lena to attention. In response, she just looked at him and nodded, her gaze drifting back to the window to watch as guards lay the dead woman on the ground and cover her stiff body with a sheet. Julian followed her gaze and reached his hand out, putting it gently on her wrist, jerking her to attention again. “I want to thank you for helping me find her,” he said gently.

Lena turned her gaze back out the window, her eyes red and watery. “You shouldn’t thank me. We were too late.”

“Maybe, but you helped me find her. Without you, it could’ve been hours before she was found, if she was even found. We have a better chance of finding out who did this to her because of your help.”

She glanced to him, offering a small, sad smile. In that moment, he reminded her distinctly of her brother. He was taller but less muscular, and his hair was dark blonde instead of nearly black and longer on the top than the sides of his head. He also smiled more often than Joel did, bringing out the early-wrinkles at his temples.

When the door of the cafe opened suddenly, both Lena and Julian turned quickly to see who was there. Standing in the doorway, looking tense and worried, was Joel, who strode forward protectively, nearly knocking the mug from Lena’s hands as he threw his massive arms around her shoulders. “By the spirits, what were you thinking?” His voice was higher-pitched than she had heard from him, a testament to his nerves. He stepped back and took her thin shoulders in his hands, giving her a gentle shake. “The clinic is covered in blood, you were gone, and all you said was to meet you here? I was panicking!”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” Lena said softly, all to aware of Julian’s bright blue eyes going between them, studying them.

Joel looked to Julian, as if gauging whether to ask whatever question he wanted to. Then, finally, he spoke quality. “What in the names of the spirits happened at the clinic?”

When Lena looked at Julian, the guard started to stand, saying “I can go if-”

“No,” she said quickly, holding a hand out toward him. “No, it’s okay.” After taking a moment to rub her arms, Lena sighed. “It was Lacasse. He showed up at the clinic last night.” The response was immediate - Joel’s shoulders tensed and Julian sat up straighter, and both of them stared at Lena. She hurried on, almost stammering. “He was hurt, very badly. I didn’t even know it was him at first. He came in and just collapsed there on the floor. When I went to help, that’s when I realized who it was. I started with assessing his injuries and… Whatever happened, I don’t know how he even made it to the clinic. Several broken bones, many deep lacerations all over his body, stab wounds and internal bleeding… Healing him exhausted me more than I expected. I must’ve passed out for him to have gotten up and left without me noticing. I only woke up when Julian showed up.”

“You don’t remember laying down?” Julian asked, earning a shake of the head from Lena. His brows lifted slightly in surprise. “Lacasse must have put you in the cot then.”

“You know Lacasse?” Joel eyed the guard suspiciously.

“I’m a member of the city guard,” he began, by way of an explanation before continuing. “We all know Lacasse, though not many of us have had to deal with him directly.”

“He confronted Lena outside the clinic some weeks ago,” Joel mentioned.

“He what?”

“I saw him outside the clinic and he approached me, told me he knew I was… That he knew about me,” she said, glancing around the shop. “He said he knew about me but that he wouldn’t turn me in. Then he just left.”

“That’s very strange,” Julian muttered, more so to himself than either Joel or Lena. “I can’t say with any certainty what his intent even could have been. Reese Lacasse is a great many things, but we’ve never known him to do anything without considerable reason.”

“Is that supposed to make us feel better?” Joel definitely didn’t sound relieved, but his tone was markedly lighter than before. It was as close to joking as he’d likely get.

Before Julian could make any response the door opened once again behind them. It was another guard that entered, wearing the city’s black uniform with blue stitching. Even with the uniform, the guard her still looked quite young. She approached Julian, put a fist over her heart and gave a quick bow before meeting his gaze. “Sir, we’ve found a brand on the woman’s waist. She’s one of Kit’s girls.”

“Kit?” Joel questioned.

“Kit Vodach, leader of the Mrezha gang. If it’s illegal, they’re likely to have a hand in it. That they went after this girl, though, unsettles me. Do we know the cause of death?”

“Unclear, but she had defensive wounds. She fought dearly for her life.”

“Thank you, Kora,” the elder guard replied, dismissing the young woman. 

“You said she was afraid that someone was stalking her,” Lena began. “Did she have any idea who it was that followed her?”

Julian looked up at her, a bit startled. “She had been desperately afraid… Kit certainly inspires fear among any that cross him. Had she done so, intentionally or not, it could have warranted her fear.” Then, rather suddenly, he stood. “I cannot thank you enough for your assistance. However, if this does involve Kit and the Mrezha, even if they are not involved, I cannot ask any more of you. I fear to do so would put you in the eyes of whoever did this. But again, I do thank you for your help, Miss Lena. If there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to call upon me.”

Lena nodded and then stood, stepping beside her brother. “Thank you. I’m sorry things didn’t turn out better for the girl.”

“It’s not your doing that she’s gone. We’ll find whoever is at fault and make them face justice.”


End file.
